


Small Comfort

by Khaleesi_of_Lannisport



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: Thrawn - Timothy Zahn
Genre: Couch Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, F/M, Heartbreak, Missionary Position, NSFW, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Thrawn definitely has a crush on you, Unsafe Sex, Vader may have a crush on you, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Widowed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-03-31 23:22:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13985484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khaleesi_of_Lannisport/pseuds/Khaleesi_of_Lannisport
Summary: You're the widow of Grand Moff Tarkin; after his death from the defeat and destruction of the Death Star, you've become the center of attention by many within the Empire's inner circle. One Chiss Admiral has harbored affections for you for years, and finally has his chance at expressing his desires. Will you accept them?





	Small Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> Basically, you're a widow whose in need of a good dicking, and Thrawn gives it to you. Enjoy!

Small Comfort 

The news of the death of your husband came via holo-transmission, regretfully informing you that the rebels successfully destroyed the new battle station, the ‘Death Star.’   
“Grand Moff Tarkin was at the helm on the bridge, I am so sorry ma’am.” 

The transmission shuts off and you felt your heart sink. You whisper his name like a prayer as tears begin to stain your cheeks. Wilhuff. You sink to the floor, feeling your world becoming smaller. You never felt so alone until now.

The days that followed were filled with anger and grief from fellow high-ranking wives who also lost their husbands. You found yourself at the center of attention at the memorial given a few days later. It was held in a large banquet hall provided by the Emperor himself. People whispered rumors if he’d make an appearance and you hoped he wouldn’t come out of fear of saying something you’d regret. The banquet hall had previously held parties and wedding celebrations for many wealthy imperial officers along with the occasional senators’ campaign galas. It was at this banquet hall where you were first introduced to ambitious, career climbing Wilhuff Tarkin. He wouldn’t leave alone the whole night, inquiring about your life, your career, and a rather cold attempt at flirting. In the end, you were taken in by his eyes, charm and very sardonic wit. 

The hall was filled with pictures and tokens of your shared life: wedding pictures, your career as an opera soprano, holidays spent on his home planet, the births of your two sons. You hated this façade you’ve placed in the memorial, all smiles and happier times, never revealing how you two had grown a part in last years. Wilhuff had become focused on completing the plans for the new battle station, failing to remember your anniversary, birthdays of your boys, and going for long periods without communication. And when you finally were able to speak to each other, and although you promised yourself you wouldn’t argue, you’d fall into just that. At least before when you’d argue there was a chance to make amends through sex...but that’d had long since passed.

You adjust your gown before entering into the hall. Black was never your color, it washed out the expression and joy your face often showed. Soon the room began to fill with former imperial senators and regional governors, approaching you and offering condolences. Your eyes watch for familiar faces, in particularly one man you hoped wouldn’t make an appearance. All their expressions of grief were the same, all rehearsed grand statements of what a great man Wilhuff was:

“Moff Tarkin was giant of a man. He will be missed.”

“I knew Moff Tarkin when he was a mere captain during The Clone Wars...”

“Governor Tarkin was an exceptional blah blah.”

You grew tired of their pretense and faux sympathies. All you wanted to do was leave. 

Suddenly there was a hush in the hall as a dark figure entered. Stormtroopers cleared the entrance. Gasps and whispers followed with someone finally saying, “Lord Vader is here.”  
You fix your hair and smoothed your gown as the Sith Lord advanced towards you. You had only met a handful of times during your marriage to Wilhuff, and each of them left you feeling cold. Saying the wrong thing to him could harm your husband’s career and as a political wife your place was behind him never beside him. However, with his death now you felt a bit empowered, finally able to stand on your own to whomever engages with you.

The Dark Lord’s breathing unsettles you. He was more machine than man. 

“My deepest regrets Lady Tarkin. Your husband was the perfect soldier, captain and Grand Moff. These rebels will pay with their lives, I can promise you that.”

Your smile is stiff and forced, “I thank you Lord Vader. I knew you were at the battle, fending off the rebel fighters as best you could.”

“The Empire is grateful to his service in completing the Death Star and in enforcing peace in the Outer Rim.”

Lord Vader extends his hand to you and without thinking twice you take it into his. You expected a firm handshake but instead he brings your hand towards his helmet as if he means to kiss your fingers. A small gesture that demonstrated his humanity is still intact. He releases you and bows slightly.

“The Empire has too many widows, Lady Tarkin. I apologize that I could not return your husband to you.”

You’re left speechless by his acts of sympathy as if he knows what it means to lose a spouse. Lord Vader then leaves the memorial, but his presence is still felt. The banquet hall begins to breath again, all low toned whispers of what just happened. Your head spins and you feel faint, catching yourself at the edge of a table. Some brown-nosing governor takes notices and offers you help into a chair, barking orders for someone to bring you water. You thank him for his kindness, taking small sips before hushing him away from you. 

‘What toads these men are! All they want is to use me to benefit their careers.’

The memorial ends and you return to your estate. The nanny has put your youngest son to sleep. You did not bring him since he was only a year and half old, he wouldn’t understand the gravity of the situation. Your eldest son decided not to attend the memorial for fear of missing too many days at the academy would harm his career. You stare at a holo-picture of Wilhuff, his expression is hard and unfeeling, you can feel his disappointment. You respond to the picture as if Wilhuff could actually hear you, “What did you expect? He is your son after all. Just as ambitious as you were at fourteen.” 

You undress into an emerald silk nightgown with matching robe. An opened wine bottle with a glass sits beside you as you begin to brush your hair at your vanity. You keep the lighting dim so not to look in the mirror and see your face. Wilhuff’s death has aged you or maybe it was just today you look especially old. New wrinkles around your eyes caught your attention. You are approaching forty and had previously been the center of Coruscant’s high society. Senior officers used to crowd your dressing rooms after each performance, hoping for a ‘private audience,’ leaving bouquets and other trinkets. Your mother raised you to be admired and you flourished in it. But, now you no longer felt like the great beauty who had ensnared a newly minted Moff Tarkin, leaving your career as an esteemed opera singer once patronaged by the Emperor. 

A knock on the door interrupts your thoughts. 

“Yes?” you call out. A maid enters your master bedroom, “Madam you have another mourner. He said he apologizes he couldn’t come sooner to the memorial but wishes to offer condolences.”

You roll your eyes and release an exacerbated sigh, “Who is it?”

The maid takes a deep breath before replying, “Grand Admiral Thrawn, ma’am.”

You’re taken aback by this. You instruct the maid to leave and send him into the parlor to be received by you. Your mind races, remembering the last time you had seen him was fraught with drama. 

‘Wasn’t Thrawn in the unknown regions, establishing new imperial bases?’ 

Thrawn flaunted his affections for you in front of Wilhuff a number of times. It flattered you, playing to your vanity, while giving grief in your marriage. Wilhuff never expressed distaste for the Chiss Admiral, rather he admired his skills as a Commander and looked for his expertise but never forgot his indiscretions towards you. 

You fix your face, adding a bit of perfume and quickly change into your mourning gown. You must play the part of a grieving widow.

The Chiss Admiral stands in the center of your parlor, hands behind his back, examining the promotional holo-posters of your years as leading soprano. It was the only room Wilhuff gave you to display them, a small token for you to remember the career path you sacrificed for his. 

You clear your throat, announcing your presence. 

“Grand Admiral, I am surprised by your visit to my home at such a late hour.”

“N/A, I am so sorry for the death of your husband. I came as soon as I could,” the Chiss takes both your hands into his. They’re rough and warm to the touch. He kisses your hands before releasing them.

“Thank you, Grand Admiral.”

“Please, N/A, I’ve known you long enough to be called Thrawn.”

You clasp your hands in front of you, keeping your posture strong, “Thrawn, I’m not sure why you’d come here. The memorial was hours ago. This seems so unlike you.”  
His red eyes soften with his expression, “I wanted to see you, N/A. I know you must be suffering with the sudden loss of your husband. I wanted to be here as a comfort to you.”  
Thrawn’s hand cups your left cheek as your eyes fill with tears. You feel rage, sorrow and guilt all at once. A part of you wants to scream, another part wants to be held in his arms. You take a deep breath to hold in your emotion.

“I don’t need your comfort, Thrawn. I need my husband, but he’s gone. I’m left a widow with two boys to raise. Please don’t make this difficult for me.”

“You’re strong, N/A. I know how strong you are and you will get through this.”

Thrawn pulls you into an embrace. His arms wrap around you as your head rests in his chest. You’re reluctant to place your arms around him but slowly you relent and return his affection. You feel safe and warm in the Chiss’ arms, and soon you release all your emotions into him. Thrawn strokes your hair as you weep, soft hushes to calm you all the while holding you tighter. 

Thrawn guides you to the velvet sofa. You wipe your tears from your face as he tucks your hair behind your ear.

“I must look like terrible,” you finally say to break the silence.

“None of that, N/A. You’re as beautiful as ever,” his voice is soft and smooth, just like the velvet you’re sitting on. “I’ve admired you from afar for years, N/A. From your first performance I knew my heart was set on you.”

His confession breaks something in you, “How dare you Thrawn. I just lost my husband and you come here with these ridiculous displays of affection.”

“Please, N/A,” he tries to take hold of your hands again but you snatch them away. “I only want to be honest with you. I’ve been away for so long and I have to return very soon. This is my only chance to tell you this....”

“Thrawn, you flaunted your affections for me for years and many times in front of Wilhuff. I don’t want to hear this, not now.”

“N/A, I have to leave into the unknown regions again, and perhaps I will die there.” This time he violently takes your hands into his, pulling you closer. “I love you, I always have. I’ve longed for an opportunity to express this to you.” 

You break free from him and stand up, rushing for the door. “Enough of this nonsense!”

“Don’t deny that you feel the same, N/A,” he calls out.

You stop abruptly. A wound in your heart that you thought had healed seems to open from his words.

You turn back to face him, “Yes, I felt something for you once. But I _loved_ Wilhuff.”

Thrawn stands up and walks towards you. “He’s gone, and I’m not.” He wraps one arm around you and pulls you into a kiss. The Grand Admiral does not take ‘no’ without an unconditional surrender. You break the kiss with a slap to his face.

“Get out, Thrawn.” Your heart is filled with rage and desire. But which is stronger? 

You glare into his blood Chiss eyes, wanting to slap and hit him again...and feel his lips against your neck.

“Your eyes are telling me to stay,” he responds softly. “I am here, N/A. I want you, only you. Please, use me if you must. A small comfort in your suffering.” 

You’ve longed for physical love for so long. You couldn’t remember the last time you were held like this by your husband, told how beautiful you are, kissed so passionately.   
“N/A, don’t deny yourself what you want,” he steals another kiss, this time softly and you return it. His lips are soft and welcoming. He deeps the kiss and you open your mouth, allowing your tongues to meet. Thrawn breaks the kiss and pushes you against the parlor’s door, locking you in with both arms around you. You pull his face in again for another kiss. You’re greedy for affection and he knows this. Soon, Thrawn lifts your skirts and finds your entrance already wet from desire. His lips settle on your neck as he begins to stroke your cunt. You mewl and grind up against his hand as he leaves kisses trailing your neck down to your breasts. 

You begin to whisper his name over and over like a prayer mantra. 

“Thrawn....I-I-I want...” you cannot focus on anything else as he begins to finger you. Thrawn thrusts his fingers deeper and harder matching your grinding. Your breathing becomes shortened as you reach your climax, softly mewling. Thrawn releases his fingers from you, smiling to himself in satisfying you. You glance down and see his hardness bulging from under his white imperial uniform. Thrawn’s crimson eyes watch your face intently as you begin to feel cock from under the fabric. 

“I think its only fair I return the favor,” you whisper. The Chiss Admiral chuckles softly, “Whatever you want, N/A. I am here for your comfort.”

You undo the top of his pants and start to stroke him, getting a feel of how large he is. You’d only ever been with humans and Wilhuff was a bit above average, but the Chiss are on another level of cock size. A part of you feels uneasy at the idea of having him inside you, but you were wet enough and in desperate need of a good fuck. The Chiss’ eyes close as you continue to stroke him languidly. You lead him back to the velvet sofa in the parlor but not before ensuring the doors were locked.

Thrawn removes his white imperial uniform piece by piece, carefully placing them on the desk at the other side of the parlor. His blue physique is so foreign to you, no discoloring, a few scars on his chest perhaps from his time training at the academy. 

“Come here, N/A,” he says smoothly, his Chiss accent was still intact even after learning Basic. It enamored you to hear your name from him. You straddle Thrawn on the couch, keeping your mourning gown on but your undergarment is gone. His hands gliding over your gown and he looks a bit disappointed.

He clicks his tongue, “Too much clothes for our interlude. Let’s take this off.” He starts to pull down the sleeves of your gown, revealing your breasts. His hand lands on the small of your back as he moves you closer in reaching distance of his mouth. His tongue dances around your beaded nipple, sucking and biting your flesh. You begin to moan into his ear as you reach for his engorged shaft. Thrawn enters you with ease from your slickness and releases a low growl. 

He looks at you with pleasure, “You feel so good.” 

His words are enough to set a fire in you. Your hands grip the sofa behind him as you start to ride him. Thrawn holds firm on your hips, his eyes watching you fiercely. You can feel yourself coming closer to your climax but you don’t want this feeling to stop. A final buck and satisfied moan are released from you but Thrawn is far from finishing. With a swift move, Thrawn throws you on your back, pinning you down on the couch with his hands, holding your wrists firmly as he continues to fuck you wildly. You let out a scream but quickly his blue palm crushes your mouth. Your legs wrap around him holding firm as he pounds you hard and fast, just like you wanted. Sweat from his brow lands on you as you watch his eyes roll back briefly as he groans and releases himself into you. Thrawn collapses on you, letting go of your wrists you hold him in an embrace.

Both of you catch your breath before speaking. Thrawn kisses your flushed cheek softly before kissing your lips. You feel such relief and joy and guilt all at once. His fingers trace your face, neither of you wants to say anything to ruin this moment. 

Finally, Thrawn takes a deep breath and says, “I adore you, N/A.”

All you can say in return, “I know you do.” 

Thrawn’s face sinks a bit at the realization that he will never mean anything more than what Wilhuff meant. He withdraws from the afterglow of your embrace and begins to dress himself in silence. You watch the proud Chiss Admiral button and tuck his uniform into place, slicking back his hair to perfect form. 

Thrawn turns back to you before reaching the parlor door, “I hope my comfort was enough.”

His voice is strained yet hard, like the Commander he is, he accepts the results.

“It was, thank you Grand Admiral.”

Thrawn winces at hearing his title from you. He leaves the parlor and you’re left alone again in the room filled with ghosts of your life. 

‘Did I make a mistake?’ you whisper to yourself. 

The next morning, you’re awaken by a delivery, a bouquet arrives signed, “Eternally yours, Thrawn.” 

END

**Author's Note:**

> I've enjoyed reading a lot of Thrawn / Reader fanfics so I decided to try my hand at one. Comments are always encouraged and welcomed!


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